“Goddamnit!” Woody yelled, running after them. He suddenly stopped, right out in the open, realizing what a stupid move that had been.
Smoke and Sally fired at the same time. One slug struck Woody in the side, the .44-.40 hit him in the chest. Woody had no further use for a horse.
Smoke plugged Yancey in the shoulder, knocking the man down and putting him out of the fight. Yancey began crawling downhill toward the horses, staying to cover. He had but two thoughts in mind: getting in the saddle and getting the hell gone from this place.
“It’s no good!” Ace yelled. “They’ll pick us all off if we stay here. We got to get out of range. Start makin’ your way down the slope.”
The outlaws and bounty hunters began crawling back, staying to cover. Smoke and Sally held their fire, neither of them having a clear target and not wanting to waste ammo. They took that time to take a drink of water, eat a biscuit, and wait.
Haynes, Dale, and Yancey were the first to reach the horses, well out of range of the guns of Smoke and Sally.
Haynes looked up, horror in his eyes. A man dressed all in black was standing by a tree, his hands filled with Colts.
“Hello, punk!” Louis Longmont said, and opened fire.
Chapter Eighteen
The last memory Haynes had, and it would have to last him an eternity, was the guns of Louis Longmont belching fire and smoke. He died sitting on his butt, his back to a boulder. Yancey tried to lift his rifle, and Louis shot him twice in the belly.
Dale turned to run, and Louis offered him no quarter. The first slug cut his spine, the second slug caught him falling and took off part of his head.
Louis reloaded his Colts, then picked up his rifle and took cover.
“We yield!” Nap Jacobs yelled.
“Not in this game,” Louis called.
“Somebody come hep me!” Big Bob Masters squalled. “I cain’t stand the pain!”
The pinned-down gunmen looked at each other. There were four of them left. Nap Jacobs, Ace Reilly, and two of Slater’s boys, Kenny and Summers.
All knew Big Bob Masters was not long for this world. His yelling was growing weaker.
“I ain’t done you no hurt, Longmont!” Ace yelled. “You got no call to horn in on this play.”
“But here I am,” Louis said. “Make your peace with God.”
The silent dead littered the mountain battlefield. Below them, an outlaw’s horse pawed the ground, the steel hoof striking rock.
“And I don’t know who you is over yonder in the rocks,” Nap yelled. “But I wish you’d bow out.”
“I’m Mrs. Smoke Jensen!” Sally called.
“Dear God in Heaven,” Ace said. “We been took down by a damn skirt!”
“Disgustin’!” Nap said.
Kenny looked wild-eyed all around him. He was mumbling under his breath. His eyes held a touch of madness, and he was breathing hard, his chest heaving. Drool leaked from his mouth. “I’m gone,” he said, and jumped up.
Three rifles barked at once, all the slugs striking true. Kenny was slammed backward, two holes in his chest and one hole in the center of his forehead.
Nap looked over at Ace. “This ain’t no cakewalk, Ace. We forgot about Smoke’s reputation once the battle starts.”
“Yeah,” Ace said, his voice low. “Once folks come after him, he don’t leave nobody standin’.”
“I got an idea. Listen.” Nap tied a dirty bandana around the barrel of his rifle and waved it. “I’m standin’ up, people!” he shouted, taking his guns from leather and dropping them on the ground. “I walk out of here, and I’m gone from this country, and I don’t come back.” He looked at Ace. “You with me?”
“All the way—if they’ll let us leave.”
“I ain’t playin’, Ace. If they let us go, I’m gone far and long.”
“My word on it.”
“How about it, Jensen?” Nap shouted.
“It’s all right with me,” Smoke returned the shout.
“But if I see you again, anyplace, anytime, and you’re wearing a gun, I’ll kill the both of you. That’s a promise.”
“Let’s go,” Nap said. “I always did want to see what’s east of the Mississippi.”
The three of them shifted locations, leaving the dead bodies behind them. They knew all those shots would soon bring other troublehunters on the run.
Louis reached out to stroke the blue steele’s head, and the stallion almost took some fingers off. Louis got his hand out of the way just in time.
“Vicious brute!” he said.
The stallion walled his eyes and showed Louis his big teeth.
“Gentle as a baby,” Sally said, giving him a carrot. The stallion took the carrot as gently as a house pet.
“We’ve got to get Sally out of here,” Smoke said.
“I concur,” Louis said. “However . . .”
“You can both go straight to hell!” she cut off Louis’ words. “I didn’t travel two hundred and fifty miles from the Sugarloaf to sit in some hotel room. I came to stand by my man, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
Smoke shrugged. “You were about to say, Louis? . . .”
“That it might not be possible to get Sally out of the mountains. Bounty hunters and assorted other crud and punks were still pouring into town when I left. We cut the odds down some today, but I’ll wager that double that number came into the mountains.”
Smoke had taken a big, tough-looking horse from the mounts that the dead would no longer need. They had all carried food in their saddlebags, so that problem, at least, was solved. They had plenty of coffee and ammo as well.
“If we could just find a place to hole up until those warrants are lifted,” Smoke said wistfully. He was weary of the killing. Weary of the blood and pain and sweat and tension.
Louis shook his head. “No, my friend. That wouldn’t stop most of them. The blood lust is high and hot now. They’re like hungry predators on a blood scent.”
Smoke drained his coffee cup and tossed the dredges. “Let’s get moving. We’ve got to find a place that we can defend.”
“He’ll make it,” the young doctor said, stepping out of the room and gently closing the door behind him. “That is one tough man in there.”
Charlie Starr was sleeping with the aid of some laudanum.
The doctor dropped three chunks of lead on the table. “I dug one out of his leg, one out of his side, and another was lodged in his arm. Another bullet grazed his head. He’ll have a frightful headache for a time, and a hat would be uncomfortable, but he’ll be flat on his back a long time before he needs a hat.”
“Don’t you bet on that,” Lilly told him. “That’s a warhoss in there in my bed.” She grinned wickedly. “And it ain’t the first time he’s been in my bed.” The doctor blushed. “I’ve wore him down to a frazzle a time or two myself. You got any pills you want me give him?”
“You’re staying with him?”
“Night and day until I’m sure he’s all right.”
Earl stepped into the room. “You’ve got to see this, Johnny,” he said. “You might never see another sight like it.”
Johnny walked outside and stood with Earl and Cotton, staring at the lawyer Larry Tibbson. Larry had bought himself some cowboy clothes, from hat to boots, and was wearing two pearl—handled .45s and carrying a
